Page. Tamora Pierce
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walked over and slid into place among her friends. Nealan of Queenscove poured her fruit juice while other boys passed the honey-pot and butter.
‘So, Keladry of Mindelan,’ said Neal, his slightly husky voice teasing, ‘not even a full day in your second year, and already you have punishment work lined up. Don’t leave it to the last minute, that’s what I say!’ He was a tall, lanky youth who wore his light brown hair combed back from a widow’s peak. His sharp-boned face was lit by green eyes that danced wickedly as he looked at her. He was sixteen, older than the other pages, but only in his second year. He had put aside a university career to become a knight. Neal had taught Kel to know the palace the year before, assisting her with classwork and cheering her worst moods with his tart humour. In return she tried to keep him out of trouble and made him eat his vegetables. It was a strange friendship, but a solid one.
‘Neal’s just disappointed because he thought he’d be first.’ The quiet remark had come from black-haired, black-eyed Seaver. He, too, was a second-year page.
‘I’m surprised he didn’t dump porridge on Lord Wyldon this morning, just to get the jump on the rest of us,’ joked Cleon. A big, red-headed youth, he was a fourth-year page. ‘Guess you’ll have to wait till next autumn, Neal.’ He smacked the top of Neal’s head gently, then went for seconds.
Kel looked to see who else had joined them. There was red-headed Merric of Hollyrose, whose temper was as quick as Cleon’s was slow; dark, handsome Faleron of King’s Reach, Merric’s cousin; and Esmond of Nicoline, whose normal powdering of freckles had thickened over the summer. All were her friends and members of the study group that had met in Neal’s room the previous year. With them were three new first-year pages, boys that Cleon, Neal, and Merric had chosen to sponsor. She wasn’t sure if they were friends or not. They would have been rude to refuse to sit with their sponsors, and thus with The Girl.
Only one of their company was missing, Prince Roald, but that was expected. Roald, now a fourth-year page, was always careful to slight no one. He had eaten with Kel, Neal, and their group the night before. Today he and the boy he had chosen to sponsor sat with some third-year pages.
Lunch passed quickly, the boys’ talk filling Kel’s ears. She had little to say. After living in the Yamani Islands for six years, she had picked up Yamani habits, including a reluctance to chatter or let emotions show. Someone had to listen to all that talk.
At last it was time to hand in her tableware and present herself to Lord Wyldon. Joren was already at the dais, waiting. Lord Wyldon always made it clear when he was ready to speak to his charges.
When Kel reached the dais, Joren stepped away from her. Kel sighed inwardly, her face Yamani-blank. Joren and his cronies had done their best to make her leave the year before. For her part, she had declared war on their hazing of the first-years beyond what she felt was reasonable. Interference with Joren and his clique had often turned into fist fights until her friends began to join her. At year’s end, there were enough of them to stop Joren’s crowd from hazing entirely. Over the summer Kel had let herself hope that Joren would give up now. Glancing at him, she realized her hopes were empty.
Three years older, Joren was just four inches taller than Kel and beautiful. His shoulder-length hair was so blond it was nearly white. It framed pale skin, rosy cheeks, and sky blue eyes set among long, fair lashes. He was one of the best pages in unarmed and weapons combat, although in Kel’s opinion he was heavy-handed with his horse.
Well, I’ve only one more year with him, Kel thought as Lord Wyldon finished cleaning his plate. After he takes his big examination, he’ll be a squire and gone most of the year.
Lord Wyldon drained his cup and set it down sharply. His dark eyes, as hard as flint, inspected first Joren, then Kel. Did he regret that he had allowed her to stay? Kel wondered for the thousandth time. Over the summer she had learned that last year the betting among the servants had been twenty to one against Lord Wyldon’s allowing her to enter her second year.
Now, looking at Wyldon’s hard, clean-shaven face, marred by a scar that stretched from his right eye into his close-cropped brown hair, she wondered why. If she smacked the training master’s bald crown would the answer pop out of his mouth? The thought nearly made her laugh aloud, the image was so funny, but her Yamani training held. Her lips didn’t quiver; her throat didn’t catch. She blessed the Yamanis as the training master drummed his fingers on the table.
‘Joren of Stone Mountain, I will have a two-page essay on good manners by Sunday evening,’ he said. As always, the words came reluctantly from his mouth, as if he felt he might be poorer by giving them away. ‘Keladry of Mindelan, for your lateness, you will labour in the pages’ armoury for one bell of time on Sunday afternoon.’ It was the standard punishment, no more and no less than he gave any other page for tardiness.
She bowed, just as Joren had. They were not permitted to argue.
‘You are both dismissed.’ Lord Wyldon picked up his documents. Joren made sure he beat Kel out of the mess hall. She let him have the lead, since he seemed to think it was important. Once he was out of her way, she ran back to her rooms. She needed to collect her books for the afternoon’s classwork.
The dog was still asleep on her bed. He was not alone. While Kel had to keep the big shutters locked when she was out, the small pair over them were open in all weather so the sparrows that had adopted her could fly in and out. Three now perched on her coverlet, eyeing the dog with interest.
‘He isn’t staying,’ Kel told the small brown birds. The dog’s tail wagged, though he didn’t open his eyes.
One sparrow flew over and perched on her shoulder with a peep. It was the female who led the flock. A pale spot on top of her head had earned her the name Crown. Kel gave the bird a sunflower seed and gathered her books. Crown flew back to the bed to continue her inspection of the newcomer.
The palace animals were peculiar. They seemed wiser, in the human sense, than most other animals. The difference was caused by a young woman named Daine, the Wildmage, whose magic allowed her to communicate with animals. After she had talked to Kel’s gelding Peachblossom, the vicious horse allowed Kel to ride him without making her bleed for the privilege. Even Daine’s mere presence affected palace animals permanently. Three months before, Kel’s sparrows had led Kel and a troop of hunters to the lair of the giant, human-headed spider monsters called spidrens, though Daine had not been there to ask it of them.
Might Daine help with this dog? Kel wondered as she locked the door behind her.
Neal had been waiting in the corridor. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. ‘Come, Mindelan,’ he said cheerfully, towing her towards the classroom wing. ‘While you were here riding your evil horse and bending a bow all summer, did you crack a single book?’
‘I helped the housekeeper with the accounts,’ retorted Kel, letting her friend tow her. ‘Did you bend a bow or ride a horse all summer?’
‘Had to,’ Neal said gloomily as they walked into their first class, reading and writing with the Mithran priest Yayin. ‘Our master at arms kept after me.’
She sat next to him. ‘We’ll make a knight of you yet, Queenscove.’
‘That’s what I’m afraid of,’ he retorted.
After class Kel returned to her rooms to find that life had suddenly improved. A full tub of hot water awaited her. She could take a real bath while the ugly dog looked on. As she soaked, Kel realized he, too, had been washed. His fine, short fur shone white between scars. He was still homely. His legs were a little bowed, supporting a barrel chest and thin hips. She had already noticed that twice-broken tail and his torn ear. His whole ear was sharp, pointed, and upright on a head shaped like a thick ax blade. That skull looked too big even for his